Mounting Fears

36

HOLLY USED HER CELL PHONE TO GET THE ADDRESS OF THE LAW FIRM OF BARTON amp; Falls, which turned out to be in a seedy part of Washington in a commercial strip mall, next door to a bail bondsman. The plate-glass windows had been darkened with film stuck to them, and the door was locked, but there was a doorbell and intercom. Holly rang it.

"Yes?" a voice said.

"I want to see a lawyer," Holly said.

"What's your problem?"

"My husband has just been arrested for possessing a firearm and drugs."

A buzzer rang, and Holly pulled open the door. A woman of about forty, not unattractive, sat at a desk in the small reception room, filing her nails. The remains of a sandwich rested on a paper bag, next to a cardboard coffee cup, which was next to a large handbag.

"Everybody's at lunch," the woman said, shoving a sheet of paper and a pen across the desk before returning to her nails. "Fill out this form."

"That won't be necessary," Holly said. "Are you Darlene Cole?"

"Who wants to know?" the woman asked.

Holly held up her FBI ID. "FBI. Let me see some ID."

"What's this about?" the woman asked.

"Don't make me ask you again," Holly said.

"I don't have to show you any ID," the woman said.

Holly returned her ID to her handbag, set it on the floor, raked the sandwich and coffee cup off the desk, grabbed the woman's handbag, and turned the considerable contents out onto the desk.

"Hey!" the woman yelled.

"Shut up, unless you'd rather be handcuffed and interviewed at the federal detention center." Holly found a wallet amid the detritus of the handbag contents and inside that, a Maryland driver's license in the name of Darlene M. Cole.

Holly went to the front door, locked it, and returned to the desk. "Let's make this short and sweet," she said to Darlene, holding up the photo of Teddy Fay. "You met this man some years ago, and he told you his name was Fay, is that correct?"

"What if it is?"

"His name is not Fay-Fay has been dead for some time. This man is an American intelligence officer currently assigned to a foreign country. You made the mistake of believing him when he told you he was Teddy Fay and the further mistake of trying to expose him to Ned Partain of the National Inquisitor. As a result, Mr. Partain is dead, and the agent's life is in jeopardy, and you have committed a serious violation of the National Defense Act that could get you detained for up to a hundred and twenty days without being charged or seeing a lawyer. If you are convicted you'll do up to twenty-five years in prison."

"You're crazy, lady. I don't know anything about this," Darlene said, pushing her chair back against the wall.

"I want all the prints of the photograph, and the negative," Holly said, "and I don't have time to argue with you."

Darlene's eyes swiveled toward her wallet on the desk, then snapped back to Holly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Holly produced a pair of handcuffs. "You are under arrest for a Title I violation of the National Security Act," she said. "You do not have the right to remain silent, and you do not have the right to an attorney for the first one hundred and twenty days of your detention. Stand up and put your hands behind your back."

Darlene sat wide-eyed and unmoving. Holly walked around the desk, jerked her out of the chair, threw her against the wall, and handcuffed her. "Sit down," she said, shoving her back into the chair.

Holly picked up the wallet and emptied it of its contents: credit cards and photographs. She flicked through the pile until she found a small envelope, which yielded a strip of thirty-five-millimeter negatives. Holding it up to the light, she compared the frames to the photo of Teddy Fay. "Right," she said. "Where are the prints?"

Darlene said nothing.

"All right, let's get out of here," Holly said. "We'll continue this discussion in a cell downtown."

"I don't have any prints," Darlene yelled, bursting into tears. "I gave them all to Ned Partain."

"If you're lying to me, I'll find out," Holly said. "Under the act, you're eligible for extreme interrogation techniques, and you'll tell me everything."

"I swear I don't have any prints," Darlene sobbed. "You've got the negatives, so take them and leave me alone."

Holly jerked her to her feet and unlocked the cuffs. "As I told you, Ned Partain is dead, murdered, and you could be next. You'd better not breathe a word to a soul about my visit, and you'd better forget you ever talked to Partain, or you could be joining him down at the morgue in Panama City, do you understand me?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Darlene sobbed.

"If I were you, I'd move to another city far away and change my name. The people who killed Partain have long memories." Holly unlocked the door and walked to her car, laughing under her breath.

Back at Langley, Holly walked into Lance Cabot's office and deposited the prints and negatives on his desk. "I believe that's all there is," she said.

"I don't want to know how you got this stuff," Lance said.

"What stuff?" Holly asked, then she turned and went back to her office.

LANCE PUT the prints and negatives in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote "birth documents" on the envelope and locked it in his safe. No need to mention this to Katharine Lee, he thought. He felt comfortable in his skin for the first time since he had received the call from Owen Masters in Panama City.

Was Owen going to be a problem? Did he have an ax of some sort to grind? Or would he be the loyal time server he had always been and keep his mouth shut?

Lance resolved to think more on this when he was calmer and more relaxed.